Dearest vandals, whomever you may be;
I don’t know what you were looking for when you attempted to break into my car on Sept 3. I don’t understand why. Perhaps you were feeling the strain of the economy, perhaps you needed to pay child support, perhaps you were supporting your drug habit … maybe it was a dare. I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter because in the end, what you did to my car was unnecessary. What you did to me was unnecessary. You broke my door handle, you broke my window and then, you slashed through the rag top that I had replaced and installed by hand, from front to back on both sides.
You took my stereo faceplate. Not the stereo, just the faceplate. You can’t even profit from that, mystery vandal. You threw everything in the glove compartment to the ground. There was nothing in there for you.
You took more than just a piece of plastic. You did more damage than just total my car. What you took from me was my sense of safety. You took my sense of goodness in people. You invaded my hard-earned property.
You destroyed my hard work. You destroyed the car that I paid for, and had just paid off. You destroyed more than just a car, you destroyed my baby.
You took my mode of transportation, the day I hurt my leg. You took my ability to go home. You took pride and joy that I had bought after seven years.
You ruined the roof that I had held together with duct tape. You ruined the roof that I found and paid for. You ruined the roof that I dirtied my hands putting on.
I hope it was worth it. I hope you got what you needed, be it initiation, drugs, a meal, whatever. I just wish you had asked for help instead of destroying something I loved.